Chapter 28
Tate couldn’t make it to the Whiskey Rose.
He usually goes over game film the morning after a game, but thanks to the parade kicking off the Celestival, he had to stay late with the other coaches to go over film and other football things that I’m not privy to. I’m no Tami Taylor.
Yet.
I missed falling asleep next to him, but even though my bed is big, once Millie and Ciara decided the night called for a sleepover, there wasn’t enough room for him anyways.
Plus, it made it even better when he swung by in the morning with donuts, kolaches, and a gallon of iced coffee from the Donuterie.
I know some women like it when men shower them with diamonds, but I’d choose carbs and caffeine every time.
It was the perfect fuel for the meticulously chaotic day Ciara had in store for us.
“Where are we going next?” I adjust my grip on the bags I’ve acquired during our shopping portion of the day. “I might have to make a pit stop at the car soon to drop these off.”
I’ve heard about the Celestival since before I moved to Celestial and approximately thrice a day since I’ve arrived.
The people of this town have a lot of pride, and it was evident in the way they discussed their annual festival.
In fact, they put so much effort into selling the Celestival and the Starlight Stampede that I began to think there was no way it could live up to its expectations.
But once again, the people of Celestial have proven me wrong. If I thought this town was like a Hallmark movie before, I had no idea what was coming for me.
The entirety of downtown has been shut down.
Every road in and out of town has been closed to make way for the parade route and the food trucks that have traveled in from near and far.
Small vendors, both local and not, have booths and tents lining the sidewalks, selling everything from homemade jam—I got strawberry jalapeno and a peach bacon jam I was not convinced of until they gave me a free sample…
then I bought three jars—handcrafted jewelry, hand-drawn maps, vintage T-shirts, refurbished furniture, and custom trucker hats.
It reminded me so much of the craft fairs that I went to with my grandma that I had to step away for a moment and take a few deep breaths.
“Same,” Gabby says. “If I keep this pace, I might need to find a new suitcase before I head back home.”
Attending the Celestival for almost the entirety of their lives, Ciara and Millie have shown a little more self-restraint than me and Gabby. My normally frugal friend has flashed her credit card more today than in the last five years combined.
“It’s really important to support small businesses in times like these,” she’d say after every purchase. “It’s called being a global citizen and good neighbor.”
I don’t think it was either of those, but I wasn’t going to stop her.
If I was going to spend seventy-five dollars on the quilted makeup bag Miss Margaret sewed and the pillowcases Esther made for the Artist Alchemy’s booth, it was only fair that she also splurged on the quilted tote bag Katy-Anne made.
They were so happy that we bought their goods, I think I’m going to be in Esther’s good graces for at least a week…
maybe even two. I’m not above buying people’s affection.
When I saw Esther’s rare but sparkling smile, I almost cleared out her stock.
The only reason I didn’t was because Millie jumped in to remind me to leave enough products for the rest of the customers.
But don’t you worry, I’ll be back tomorrow.
“A pit stop is a good idea.” Ciara looks closer at the note in her phone. “After shopping we have games, and you’ll need all hands available for that.”
“Agreed,” Millie says. “I’m the reigning ring-toss champ, and I don’t want to hear any of your excuses when I kick your asses.”
“Intense much?” I ask even though I once almost broke my ankle after some random dude in a bar challenged me to an obstacle race.
“Don’t look at me.” Ciara holds up her hands in surrender. “I’m just trying to win a goldfish.”
We take a quick detour to find Millie’s car in the merchants’ parking lot.
She has a parking pass, thanks to the Artist Alchemy booth that she’s sworn up and down she’ll be working tomorrow.
My shoulders cry with relief once I’m free of my bags, and my fingers itch to beat Millie in the carnival games.
It’s not my best trait, but she woke up the competitive monster that lives inside of me.
We navigate the crowded streets filled with residents and visitors alike, and my stomach warms with pride for my new town.
Little kids run by with ice cream cones dripping down their hands and rainbow-shaped cotton candy bigger than their heads.
Adults follow closely behind them, their inner children shining while they delight in their treats and the company of strangers.
The game portion of the carnival is set around the town square.
Every athletic team, club, and miscellaneous Celestial High School group partnered with a local business to come up with a booth for the Celestival.
There are games and baking stands, tarot card readers and sketch artists, and even a competitive improv booth courtesy of the drama club.
You can tell how much effort everyone put into their booths, and I’m pretty sure I could wander around for hours, going to visit every single one. But, if I’m being honest, there’s one specific booth I’m looking forward to seeing the most.
“Moon Girl!” The sound of my nickname rises above the crowd in a perfectly imperfect blend of teenage boy voices.
“Did they just call you Moon Girl?” Gabby asks, and like the best friend she is, I can tell she’s prepared to be extremely offended on my behalf.
“They did, but I love it,” I say. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand teenage boys”—nor do I want to—“but from what I do know, this is their way of expressing that I’m their favorite.”
And after all the laps I’ve run with them and goody bags I’ve provided, it’s a position I’ve earned.
“Okay,” she says, still sounding skeptical. “If you like it, then I love it.”
“Don’t worry.” I grab her hand and start pulling her in the direction of the group of football players waving their hands over their heads to get our attention. “You’ll see when you meet them.”
I’m sure it comes to a shock to no one, but the football team’s booth has prime real estate front and center at the top of the square.
They partnered with Big Score Sports, the one and only sporting goods store in Celestial, for an expected, but no less delightful, football toss booth.
The boys put in a ton of effort painting the tire targets they decided would look much cooler than the inflatable game Tate was going to order, coming up with the rules, and deciding on the prizes.
I’m so excited to finally see the fruits of their labor.
Little boys in Astros gear run around their booth, playing with the foam footballs they won from the game, and high-fiving the players.
A few extra adorable ones even ask some of the players to sign their shirts, a request that the team is all too happy to oblige.
Tate is at the back of the booth talking to one of his coaches, but the moment he sees me a soft smile touches his lips and he winks before turning his attention back to his conversation.
“Moon Girl finally made it!” Aiden, who has maintained his position as one of my favorites, yells when he sees me. “And she brought a moon friend!”
“I’m Gabby, but you can call me Galaxy Girl,” Gabby says, and Aiden’s smile triples.
Dammit.
Galaxy Girl is way cooler than Moon Girl.
“Alright. Enough already.” I toss the latest bag I’ve acquired on the booth and pull my arms across my chest in a big show to stretch. “Introductions have been made. Are we going to keep talking or are you ready for me to show you how to really throw a football?”
“Nice try,” Landon, one of the most prolific shit-talkers on the team, says as he hands me the football. “Girls can’t throw. Look how small your hands are. You can barely even hold the ball.”
You’d think at the big age of thirty and after spending more time than I’d care to admit kicking these boys’ butts whenever they challenge me to a race, I’d be skilled in ignoring their ruthless taunts. But I’m not, and because of that, I do what any irrational, un-levelheaded adult would do.
I pick up the gauntlet and throw it right back at them.
“So that’s how you want to play this? Don’t think that just because you’re undefeated, which, congratulations, I’m so proud of you boys”—I fall out of character for a minute before snapping back in—“doesn’t mean I won’t kick all your high school butts in a football toss any day of the week.”
“Oh no.” Tate enters the conversation, and he looks so handsome in his official Celestial football polo and his mass of locs piled high on top of his head, I almost forget I’m too busy trash-talking and get distracted.
“Please tell me you didn’t challenge her to a game?
I thought I told you the rules when you showed up for your shift. ”
I’m not surprised Tate created a rule centered around me.
Not only was he a first-hand witness to the many household projects I made a million times worse all in the name of my pride, but he was also the one carrying me off the track when I got a little too cocky and challenged Devin—the wide receiver and state championship sprinter—to a 400-meter race.
“Do you hear that?” I ask Landon, pointing to Tate. “Sounds like someone is scared I’m going to show up his team.”
The boys are too cool to giggle, but they do let out a few manly chuckles and, let me tell you, there is not a greater high than making teenagers laugh with you instead of at you.
“Dang, Coach T!” Aiden, never one to shy away from stirring the pot, says. “You’re gonna let your girl do you like that? She must not know ’bout you!”